


Take a Break

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream walks in on Windblade asleep on the job and criticises her work methods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Break

**Author's Note:**

> Request Fic for a Anon.
> 
> I've yet to read the Windblade comics so any plot holes or character discrepancies I apologise for.

Windblade’s office had an open door policy; not because she intended it to be that way, it was because it had never occurred to her to shut people out. Especially if she was needed urgently, Windblade didn’t want to seem unavailable. After all, she was there to serve. 

However, good news spread quickly, never before had she been in service to so many, and with the volume growing daily, Windblade was learning that it’s impossible to please all of the people all of the time. 

The ratio of happy to unhappy was startlingly larger on Cybertron. Catering to the needs of a few caused more problems that it solved and the complaints kept coming. 

Windblade sat at her desk, hands squeezed round data pads, blessedly alone but her optics were fixed on the door opposite, anticipating the next unhappy customer.

Her skills were becoming a service, the demand ever growing. Fix this, speak to them, do this, ‘I want this, get it for me’, and Windblade was expected to drop everything and solve each problem there and then as if she had nothing more important to do.

There weren’t enough hours in her day to deal with all these matters along with the issue of the blackouts in Metroplex getting worse. Each time she connected with the groaning giant there was a hazy exchange of moods, Metroplex apparently gathered an understanding for how demanding her present position was and so, if he did have some vague concept of how stressful her life was, why wasn’t he doing more to ease the load off her shoulders?!

“ _Wakey, wakey litte starlet!”_

Crying out in sharp surprise, Windblade flailed, shoving herself back from the desk and her work, unsettling a few precarious stacks of data pads and inventory catalogues. The event left her desk in a mess. 

“Starscream!”

“You should close your door if you don’t want people to catch you _sleeping on the job!_ ” Very unprofessional. Starscream’s gasp was sinister and sarcastic, Windblade glared up at him through tired eyes. 

She didn’t, _couldn’t_ , remember drifting into recharge. It was the middle of the cycle, an internal check informed her that her power levels were a lot lower than what was considered usual for this time of day, which would explain why she’d powered down so inexplicably. Nevertheless, the suddenness of it left her flustered. 

“What do you want, Starscream?!”  Defensiveness rose higher than usual. Windblade clenched her jaw to stifle a yawn and the need to rub at her tired optics. 

“Oh nothing really…” As always his aloofness was as irritating and his leery self-importance, “ I just thought I’d fly by and check on your business. Heh, you look like slag by the way.” There was nothing charming about the way he spoke, his voice was deadpan and cutting. But before Starscream could make himself too comfortable and park his aft on the edge of the desk Windblade dived forward, shoving at him. Unfortunately, between the stretch and the distance combined with his weight, Starscream was unmovable. He sat down without permission or regard and squashed a few things. 

Exasperated, Windblade slumped back, unsure if the resounding groan came from her tired joints or her chair’s. 

“Frag off, Starscream.” 

She didn’t need to look at him to know Starscream was stunned, yes she was always intolerant of him but never had she spoken so bluntly before. Typically, Starscream mocked her language calling it unbecoming. Windblade ignored him and deflated further into her seat, clearly she wouldn’t be getting rid of Starscream as easily as she might have hoped. 

“What is all this junk?”

Unseen by Windblade, Starscream shifted a out from under his rump and began studying them. From her position, Windblade couldn’t exactly tell what the menace had his hands on. Seeing Starscream touch anything personal to her made her uncomfortable regardless. 

“Oh, how quaint! You’ve organised your inbox. I’m sure the good people of Cybertron will be more then interested to hear of how you’ve categorised their problems.”

No amount of impulsive reaching could save her privacy, the data pad was always held a little too far away for her to grab. 

“Let’s see: _Urgent, Meeting Requests,_ Per- _Personal Issues_ ,” Like a predator on prey Starscream homed in on that topic, gawking and salivating at the prospect of unearthing something juicy. 

“Give it here, Starscream!”

“Oh, these aren’t your personal problems they’re other peoples’ … even better!” Greedily he set upon the volumes of messages Windblade hadn't found the time to respond to yet.

“…a written complaint on behalf of the residents living in B Block floor 32: There’s a fuh- _haha!_ \- a funny smell would you fff-fix it please, _Oh Primus!”_ Starscream chortled, stooping forward. 

“It’s not funny! There could be gas leak.” 

“So? Why not forward the message to maintenance? Let them deal with the smelly fraggers!” 

“I _am_ maintenance and - and finance and resources, every issue is forwarded _through_ me! I - I,” As the shrillness of her voice stretched into higher octaves, ironically, Starscream winced. 

“Alright, calm down.” 

“Don’t you tell me to” - 

“You think I don’t have to deal with all this slag too? Do you see me whinging?” 

The instinct to retort with something nasty got caught in Windblade’s throat, the razor sharpness of it sucked back down with a gulp.

“If you did you wouldn’t be here…Slacking!” 

Starscream was cackling again. He was always laughing at her like she was some poor, inexperienced, naive… _Thing!_ and it made her so mad to be treated as such. 

“Don’t be jealous just because I have a system that takes care of all the naff stuff for me.”

“I think you mean slave; poor Rattrap!” 

“Hey! It’s not slavery if I pay his board and rent…what do you use that blue glitch for anyway?”

“I do not _use_ Chromia for anything. We’re partners.” 

“Really?” His lilt and quirks implied something Windblade would never discuss in front of the likes of Starscream.

“ _Really_.” 

Starscream thew his head back in a typically exaggerated way. Like she’d bestowed upon him some great disappointment. 

“Are all the people from Caminus as boring as you, or is that the reason they made you leave?”

_You’re horrible, Starscream_. She longed to tell him, as so many already had, but was unwilling to succumb to the standoffish attitude. Windblade turned up her nose, wishing him away. 

Starscream enjoyed flustering the new comer, possibly this was a scare tactic to bully her off his turf, but more than likely he just caused misery because he could. Nevertheless, no outward reaction meant no fun, soon after Starscream resigned his efforts to rattle her and continued pouring through information Windblade had collected. 

The problems, the calamities, the little niggling gripes were all part of an endless list. Most marked ‘unopened’.

“Uhh, ignore him, you can postpone that, Oh Primus! He messages you too?! I’ve already told him to take the issue up with his landlord!” Starscream would’ve continued rattling off his opinions if Windblade hadn’t arrived at the end of her patience.

“Starscream, please!” She looked almost desperate. It was ticking past midday, she was too busy and too drained to tolerate these needless delays he imposed, “I can’t play your games today, there’s just too much to do and you’re not helping!” Which he undoubtedly knew already, “The plumbing company need permission to begin digging out the new pipe line which they’d asked me to get from the land owner. The same land owner who insists on dragging his heels because he’s in some legal battle with the refuge company. They keep dumping waste on his property because, _apparently,”_ And Windblade quoted this, “The recent battle has left them with no spare land to occupy. _And,_ on top of that,” Starscream remained stunningly quiet while Windblade gathered her witts, “People keep complaining about the noise coming from Blurr’s Bar after sunset, saying that it’s a nuisance.”

“Eesh.” 

“Yes! Exactly! And I get a new visitor every half an hour complaining about something else and I want to help them but I …I just,” Windblade sunk against her desk, helm dipped into her hands. 

“Have you tried closing the door?”

Peeping through her fingers, Windblade has seldom felt more hostile.

“Shut up.” She closed the gap in her fingers and as much as she wanted to, tried not to whine. 

“Fine, don’t listen to me, worst mistake you’ll ever make but whatever.” The desk creaked, springing up as his weight lifted. 

“All you wanted was to come here, waste me time and gloat.” 

“And to offer you the benefit of my experience of course,” He was already sidling through the doorway, twisting to avoid catching the slant of his wings on the narrow frame, “But you keep doing what you’re doing, it takes the pressure off me.”

“Just leave.” Windblade muttered in vain, Starscream had already gone. 

It was hard to judge, after that, whether the hours flew by in a blur or dragged. Windblade diligently pressed on with meeting the demands of her work, flitting all over the city, trying to deal with as much as she could in the time she had left and then, suddenly, the sun split over the horizon and daylight was bleeding away. 

Windblade had no idea where all the time had gone.

Not too far ahead of her she spotted the welcoming hew of Maccadam's Old Oil House shining through the bleary smog veiling the lower districts of the reformed city. It reminded her that she had business with the new owner before journeying back to Metroplex, where there was surely an irate queue forming at her office door. 

The thought of dealing with so much hassle made tackling an issue of noise at Maccadam’s seem like a breezy task. 

Windblade transformed and landed just beyond Maccadam’s front door. Her feet were sore and her knee joints stiff from a hard day for running around. Outside, she caught a faint whiff of the distillery that spouted strong drinks for the gamely patrons she was confronted by inside. 

A few heads turned in her direction, by now she was a well known figure in society which, perhaps made it a little risky for her to be venturing into such venues without the benefit of a chaperone. However, since she had no intention to stay longer than needed, Windblade didn’t foresee any trouble. 

A haze of concentration overtook her as she sought out the bar’s owner. There was quiet a crowd gathered in front of the stage observing the evening’s entertainment. Soft music played making her feel almost dreamy, like the stress of the long day was weighing on her now making her feel cozy in the bar’s ambience. The bar itself, a gleaming counter curling round four High Grade vats, looked very tempting…

But Windblade shook off the distraction, refocused her efforts and squinted about the room in search of Blurr who, much to her surprise and relief was already on his way over to her. 

The pleasant swell in her spark constricted abruptly, Blurr didn’t look pleased. Haggard by a day of tribulations, Windblade didn’t have the fortitude to stand her ground. She stepped back when Blurr approached, tongue thickening in her mouth as she forgot everything she’d rehearsed on the way into the bar. 

“Blurr, I”-

“Yeah, yeah I already know, don’t need to be told again, no loud music after sunset, I  got it the first time.” 

As was customary when confronted by Blurr’s mannerisms, his fast pace was hard to process. With speed he managed to herd Windblade along, at first she assumed to the door but then came the added control of his palm pressing flat between her shoulders. Blurr steered Windblade toward an empty booth huddled against the wall. 

From here she’d have a good view of the room and everything in it: the stage, the bar. Almost automatically she caved to the allure of a comfy seat and slid neatly into the booth, compelled by Blurr’s unyielding hand. 

Next some kind of sparkly concoction was pushed in front of her nose, something Blurr must have been carrying all along but Windblade missed it. 

“Wo, wha, huh?” She floundered, still dazzled by many questions and now feeling concerned that she wasn’t carrying any credits to pay for the service. 

“Drink’s compliments of him over there,” Blurr stepped aside, allowing Windblade to stretch and see the bar, “He told me to tell you, take the night off, relax, everything’s taken care of and to join him when you’re ready.” 

Words failed her, and Starscream knew it, staring smugly across at her from the bar, he raised his hands in a toast to what was, in his belief, a job well done. Beside him was Rattrap, the smaller transformer struggled to wrap his buck teeth round the bendy straw jutting from his drink. His persistent fussing pulled Starscream’s concentration away from Windblade. Shortly after she could see the two ranting at each other and was thankfully too far away to listen. 

Instead, she took a moment to sit back and sighed, drenched in the shock of realising Starscream seemed to know exactly what she needed. Tension drained sluggishly from her body. With a mountain of problems waiting for her to return Windblade couldn’t relax but she appreciated the respite for now, far away from a bursting inbox and regular house calls. 

But, if keeping her door open resulted in this, how could it be a bad thing?   

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are closed as of 11/9/2014  
> Please check my tumblr for updates: [X](http://bammshee.tumblr.com/bammsheesfanficrequests)


End file.
